Villains vs Fashionistas
by Devon Shea
Summary: Guarding the Boss' wife should be a piece of cake, right? A Henchman's tale.


Charlie was starting to reconsider his choice of employers. His parents had been so proud the day he'd gotten his job offer. It was the family business, of course. It took a certain amount of nerve to become a henchman. Deciding to start a family at the same time, and when the parents worked for competing villains, well, that just meant his family was just a little more determined than most to succeed.

The problem came when the Boss got married. Normally, all that meant was that the henchmen just had to add the bodyguard services of a free-wheeling wife to their list of duties. It wasn't difficult, and Charlie certainly hadn't minded attending his Boss' latest wife when she went shopping. He could usually convince the waitstaff to make up a few to-go portions of whatever his boss's wife was eating so he could share it with the others back at the compound later. It would really only be a few more months before the Boss got sick of her and either divorced her if she was really good in bed, or had Monty make her disappear if she hadn't been all that impressive in her, ahem, ministrations.

This wife was different, though. She had aspirations. She, in fact, fancied herself a fashionista. Charlie watched with dread as she changed the decor of the whole house. Gone were the comfortable chairs, replaced by pieces of art that he was afraid to place more than his left cheek on for fear that the spindly legs would give out on him. He had worked hard to build and maintain a daunting physique. Now he was regretting it just the tiniest bit.

The Boss' wife made her way through the entire house within the first two months of their marriage, leaving no room untouched. At first Charlie had thought the Boss would draw the line at his study being transformed, but no, he'd just smiled and nodded, telling her to do whatever she thought was best. So went the sturdy, traditional furniture that had graced the room. In came furniture that looked like it might have graced Ikea catalogs and a standing desk. How could the Boss be intimidating if he worked at a standing desk that was connected to a treadmill?

Charlie just shrugged and let it go. Who cared if his Boss had suddenly turned into a health nut? That meant he'd live longer and might even stay out of risky situations more often, right? Besides, as long as the Boss' wife had the big house to play with, she had no reason to mess with the henchmen and their quarters.

Of course, just as Charlie was feeling secure in that is when she showed up at the door to the smaller house that housed the henchmen. Well, henchmen and henchwoman seeing as Bobbie was in the middle of transitioning, but since she could still bust skulls with the best of them none of the others cared. In fact, it was Bobbie who warned them that the boss' wife was in the building with her assistant and a measuring tape.

"Charlie, get down here now." Bobbie's whispered voice would always be husky, even with the hormones she was taking, thanks to her smoking habit. "She's here and she has a notepad and a set of color swatches!"

"Oh, for- Bobbie, stop her. Talk to her. Practice your woman to woman shit."

"That's not a woman, Charlie. She's some sort of enchantress or demon. Maybe she's a succubus. It would explain why the Boss is so wrapped up in her."

Charlie pulled his pants on as quickly as he could with only one hand. He'd been up late last night with the Boss on a deal that involved something with that Russian General Gogol. He'd left two of the newer henchmen to guard the Boss while he caught up on some much-needed rest. He definitely didn't need the headache of wrangling the Boss' wife. "There's no such thing as a succubus, Bobbie. Jesus, regrow your pair and deal with her."

"Well, that was uncalled for. Just get your ass down here." Silence followed as Bobbie hung up on Charlie.

"Damn it." Well, there went any chance of her saying yes to the date he'd been planning on asking her to go on with him.

By the time he got downstairs, a cowed Bobbie was trapped on the mangy couch that had been there for as long as he'd worked here. The Boss' wife was regaling her with ideas about color palettes and lighting designs. Charlie stood in the doorway for a moment until the women noticed him. "Ah, Charlie. Just in time. I was telling Bobbie here all the plans I have for this dingy frat house my dear husband has you poor men, and woman, excuse me, Bobbie, stuck in. You'll never know it was the same place when I'm through with it."

"Well, excuse me, ma'am, but we actually like it this way." Charlie cleared his throat. "The, uh, furniture you've picked out for the main house is a bit more delicate than suits us."

Her eyes focused on him, he felt a bit like a mouse about to be devoured by a snake. To tell the truth, it felt a bit like the balls he told Bobbie to grow had pretty much just shriveled right up into his body. He gulped as she stood up and smoothed her bright red pencil skirt. She sauntered over to him, running her taloned hand over the table beside the door. Charlie frantically tried to remember the last time anyone had actually dusted in here.

"Now, Charlie, you don't want to disappoint me, do you? After all, I am your Boss," she crooned.

He cleared his throat again, "Well, technically, ma'am, your husband is my-"

The Boss lifted her hand and placed it on the plain blue button-down shirt he'd thrown on during his flight down the stairs. "No, dear. I am the Boss. My husband is taking orders from me now." She tapped her talons on his chest in a beat with her words. "As. Are. You."

The Boss stepped back and Charlie took a slight breath. "I'll be back when I've finalized my plans." She was gone before he could speak again, his throat tighter than he'd ever felt it before.

"Do you need to re-grow your balls, too, Charlie?"

Charlie looked over at a smirking Bobbie and took a shaky breath. "I think she ate them."

"See, demon."

* * *

Two weeks later, Charlie tapped on Bobbie's door and walked in when she called out. The new furniture had been arriving for the past two days, one room at a time. Thankfully, it wasn't completely feminine and delicate, but he wasn't sure it would hold up to the level of rough-housing that had gone on here before.

The problem came when the Boss showed her henchmen what was going to be their new uniform. A simple suit and tie off the rack was out the window. These were specially made and ordered, bespoke. Charlie held his new, wildly-patterned, extra-wide neckgear out and asked his new girlfriend, "Does this tie make me look fat?"


End file.
